Long Lost
by TheInkgirl
Summary: A few years after the end of Treasure Planet Silver is tracked down by a formidable hit-woman with a score to settle.She mistakenly believe Silver has a son and starts hunting down Jim. HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

_This is actually one of my newer ideas. I started it spur of the moment. All of the Treasure Planet and its characters belong to Disney. The OC's are mine. _

Chapter One: Your past catches up to you

John Silver was, admittedly, a little apprehensive. A few years since his last run, criminally speaking. That was the trip that was supposed to change, to fufill, his life. In a way, it had. But the problem was that, even if you change, the choices you made still have their consequences that will be played out for the rest of your life. Sworn off his old criminal enterprises, he had been surprised when he had received a message from Almeda herself.

Almeda was one of the most feared and respected names in piratical organized crime. Achieving her feared standing at a young age, the capable criminal was known for being cold, merciless, and penetratingly intelligent. Silver had never gone in for the hiring of "experts" like those in her class, just hiring aquaintences, pirates who'd proved themselves in a fight by his side. He was mystified as to the nature of the meeting. But he figured it didn't bode well for him. People like Almeda didn't look you up for tea and a chat.

Almeda sat in the Spyglass, at a long table to the side. She smiled quietly and toyed with a band around her arm, the light coming in through the large windows, pale through the snow. She'd waited a long time for this, her smile turned hard.

The door opened. She recognized him on sight. She had to fight to keep a sneer from forming on her lips as she took in the large cyborg. Oh yes, somewhat changed since the last time she'd seen him. But that had been over fifteen years ago. No, she would never forget that day. There had been snow then, too. But that snow what specked with dirt and stained with blood. She shook her head as the man looked around.

She exhaled. Apparently he didn't recognize her. _Didn't even recognize her._ His image had been ingrained into her mind for years. She shook her head and raised her arm in a small wave. The man walked towards her. She gave a slight, sardonic smile at his confused and apprehensive expression.

"Nervous? I'll give you something to be nervous about," she thought.

Silver had reached her table.

"Sit down?" Almeda asked in her smooth alto, gesturing at the bench opposite her. He sat, still looking around, out of the corners of his eyes.

She leaned her elbows on the table, steepled her fingers, and leaned over.

"Eh, hem," she cleared her throat. "Eyes this way," she said. "Don't worry, this inn is most definitely _not_ surrounded by a score of my hit men," she said, smiling. He couldn't tell if that was a joke or serious.

Almeda rolled her eyes and let her finger trace along the grain of the table. Normally, she was known for being calm and contained. "Keep it under control," she thought.

"Do you know," she asked, glancing up from under her brows, "Do you have the faintest idea why I've asked you here?"

His puzzled look answered the question. She sighed, slightly over-dramatic.

"You don't remember me," she said, in mock-petulent tones. Silver raised his eyebrows. He most certainly did not.

She smiled, looked like a cat when she did, human as she was. "You came to my home-planet once, Orual? Oh _try_ and remember," she said, her tone dripping with overexaggerated friendliness. "There was this little town I was from? Oh, you remember, Torren," she said. She glanced up to see if this made an impression. She could tell he was thinking.

"Well good," she thought. "Nice to see some wheels turning."

"It wasn't that slick," she said, leaning backwards. "Small, a tad run-down. Houses on stilts for the spring floods, at least, in the part near the mud flats. But you know? It was winter when you were there last."

There was something going on behind his eyes. Oh yes, coming back now?

"I think you had friends with you, oh yes, a whole _group_ of you," she said, exaggerated enthusiasm sprinkled in.

Oh, he finally had an idea where this was going. But why this criminal queen was bringing it up . . . ?

"They were a rowdy bunch," she said, shaking her head. "They got a bit, _out of hand?_ Oh, no! _You_ were in charge of them, a captain." She shook her head. "And a captain, by all accounts, who is feared and obeyed without question. Or have I heard wrong?" She tilted her head. "No? Thought not."

"Why?" he asked. "What about the Torren trip?"

"Right to the point, are we?" she asked. "The Torren trip, is it? Sounds so _simple. _A small matter for your kind, eh? Well, unfortunately, it wasn't so _insignificant _for the inhabitants."

"Let me make this plain," Silver said quickly. "I don't know what you're playing at. Since when does a "Proffestional" like yourself care about the welfare of backwater peasants. And that was over fifteen years ago!"

Almeda's eyes had flashed when he'd started his outburst. But now she was calm, her usual self.

"Just how long do you think I've been in this business? A "Professional.""

Almeda glanced up and saw, with satisfaction, the realization creeping in.

"You know," she said, her voice colder. "I knew a lot of those people there. It was strange, being a mere child not sixteen, you know, seeing all of them, meaningless peasants, cut down at random. Cut down, you know, for these small articles, household things. Oh, they didn't seem little at the time. But now? For pirates? It was a small haul. But not too small, apparently, but that it warranted for that slaughter." Almeda looked up, eyes cold.

"I don't suppose you care to guess who was there?"

Silver swallowed, thinking.

"Everyone I knew was in that town. It was, unexpected, to say the least, to see neighbors being shot at for a chair here, a kettle there. It was . . . rather a shock to see my mother cut down by a saber, her blood staining that snow. It seemed unreal to see my brother go down while trying to get to her. It was all so . . . unreal. Unreal to see them die."

Her tone went back to mocking. But there was ice under it. "And now, now that I understand the business, it seems unreal to know that they died for something so small. So _insignificant," _she hissed.

Silver was thinking frantically, back to that time. Oh, he had admitted that it was an ill-fated trip. The ruffians had gotten out of hand. They had fought more than was expected, a mob really. But to know, that Almeda had been there? And now seeing her barely controlled rage, he worried. What would someone of her reputation do?

"I," she said, with barely controlled rage, "died that day. At least, that child died. I am someone else, now."

She sat back, obviously calming herself. "And," she said, pushing her dark hair back. "Did you know I have spent a great deal of time (dabbling here and there over the years) and made a rather concerted effort these past months to locate the captain of that crew? His ruffians, oh-all brainless louts, many already dead. But I've been looking for that leader." She spread her hands, mock-affable. "You see, I've got a score to settle."

Silver made to rise.

"Don't," Almeda said, losing all traces of affability under the ice. Then her tone went back to being more genial. "Did we forget that score of hit men we were talking about?"

Silver sat back, still unsure whether the hit-men were real or not.

"That's better," Almeda said, settling back herself. "You see, I don't plan on _killing _you." She shrugged. "Not here, not now. At least," here she smiled, "Not in the usual way."

She leaned forward as if telling a yarn over a friendly drink. "See, I spent a good deal of time and thought on how to settle the score. And I came to a decision. _Not_ to just up and kill that captain. Oh no. You see, what hurts, what _really_ hurts, is losing something important. If you're dead, you don't stick around to see that pain, you know?

I heard," she glanced at his cyborg arm, "That your _obsession_ was Flint's trove. I even heard you found it. Or found _something._ (It's hard to find the truth in those tails). But, you see, I won't take that, though I see it's taken some of you.

I decided, that what hurts the worst is not losing _something,_ but losing _someone. _Gold doesn't feel pain. And you don't feel near as much losing it as you do certain people. I decided, then, to find whoever it is that means something to _you._"

She smiled. "You obviously found mine."

Silver cleared his throat and said, carefully, "If you've been tracking me, you know I have no family. I don't know who you mean."

Almeda shrugged. "Oh, neither do I. And, of course, you _say_ that. Anyone would deny whoever was close to them in your _situation._ But as you see, I'm good at tracking. And, another thing. I'm determined.

I don't know who it is. But you are as mortal as the rest of us. I am sure there is _someone_ in the Etherium who means something to you."

Almeda rose. "And I will find them. I don't care how long it takes. I don't care how far I go. There is someone. I will find them. And when I do, I will kill them. Slowly. Painfully. Kill them."

Almeda turned towards the door. She turned around once she reached it and addressed Silver. "It's bound to work eventually. I'm good at hunting. And I figure I've still got forty years left in me. Ta." She turned and walked into the unstained snow.

Silver remained at the table. He'd had no idea. It was a lot in a little time. He had almost forgotten—had _tried_ to forget—that trip, the Torren trip. And who knew, he thought ruefully, that the greatest hit woman in the Empire would come from there.

He shook himself. _Jim._ He hadn't even thought it when Almeda was there. But . . . no. Surely she couldn't connect them. It had been quite some time since he'd seen the lad. And how could she connect him, an old pirate spacer, to Jim, a lad half a world away in the Interstellar Academy, favorite of the famed Captain Smollet and rising star of the nave? He hoped not. But whether Jim was safe or no, Silver knew one thing: his past had caught up with him. And it had taken the unfortunate shape of a huntress, huntress come to haunt him.

_Well, what do you think? I really did work on this one and really really really would love some input. Just one review would probably make my week. I'm not sure if the rating will go up or not; I'm not really good at choosing a rating._

_There will be more chapters to come._

_Thanks to Aud, who received my distress call when I so desperately needed a name for my hit-woman. The Spyglass, by the way, is the inn in the original Treasure Island that Long John Silver owned; just decided to borrow the name. The name of Almeda's home planet, I made up; it just sounded planetish. And her hometown Orual, is named after the lead character in C. S. Lewis's Till We Have Faces. I guess because Orual wasn't necessarily a bad person (in fact, she's worlds better than anyone else in the book). But because of numerous bad things that happened to her over her life she's also kind of psychologically and emotionally warped. Yup, that's about it. Thanks for reading!_

_--Inkgirl_


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2 is up. *sigh* not that many people appear to have taken the time out of their lives to read this. But I got the idea that at least one person might be reading; so I went on and posted this. Please, please, if you're reading this, than post a review. It doesn't have to be much; jeez a monosyllabic "hi" would be enough for me. If you read this, I thank you. A lot._

_Once again: I do not own Treasure Planet. Treasure Planet belongs to Disney. Only OC's are mine._

Chapter 2: The Hunt is On

The hunt was on. At first, Almeda had relished every aspect. Hunting she was good at. Chasing down every fragment or rumor on her old enemy, jumping planets, skipping through dozens of disreputable bars. But, patient as she was, Almeda was getting tired of this. What she wanted was blood (barbaric as that sounded). She wanted to do the deed, have it over and done. The end.

One of her main problems was that most stories about the cyborg seemed to end nearly three years ago. Somewhere around then he'd gotten involved in . . . _something_ big. But the stories all seemed blown out of proportion, with obviously invented adventures sprawling every which way. And then, nothing. The once-famed pirate just disappeared. Oh, there were those who knew him on sight, and had led the trail to the haunt she had caught him at. But the stories stopped. In fact, it was popular belief among the uneducated piratical rabble that he'd died. Or just disappeared on that trip, three years ago. _What had happened?_

The fact that _something _had occurred was obvious. It must have been a very real voyage. And, as near as Almeda could tell, it had involved the navy somehow. In fact, if things didn't look up and give her a lead in Lekdera, she was going to head to one of the major spaceports and get in touch with some navy. Lekdera. She had hopes for this place. She knew that at the peak of Silver's career, he had had two top officers working with him, the three a formidable combination. His officers were a Mr. Turnbuckle, and a Mr. Scroop. Lekdera was home of the Mantavors—Scroop's race. She had it on good authority that this spot, The Emi's had been a frequent haunt.

The Emi's was outside of town, on yellowed turf, the small dilapidated buiding practically reeked of disreputability. Perfect.

Almeda, pushing open the oversized door, took in the dusky interior of the tavern. Hmm, plenty crowded. She noticed a small, rather weasly-looking Mantavor motioning her over.

"Okay," she thought, "Let's see what you know."

She slid to the bench opposite her contact and tilted her head, waiting.

"Got any cash?" the Mantavor asked, leaning forward. Ax exhaled through her nose and casually brought her lazer-flintlock out and pointed it at him in one smooth motion before he realized what she was doing.

"Got any guts to spill?" she asked. "Literary _or_ figuratively speaking," she added with a laugh.

"Hey, hey!" the Mantavor rasped. "No need to get hasty," he said (rather, ah, hastily).

Almeda grinned and holstered her weapon. "Don't worry—don't _plan_ on killing you. Just get talking and I'll pay up later."

"Well, be more careful," the Mantavor grumped, obviously miffed (as well as trying to act like he hadn't been worried).

"What do you know," Almeda asked, "About a voyage that the pirate Silver was on, two or three years ago? And _none_ of that overblown idiocy that I've been hearing," she added quickly. "_If_ you don't mind."

"Oh yes," the Mantavor said, obviously happy he _did_ have information she wanted. "The expedition aboard the Legacy."

"What?" interjected Almeda. "That doesn't sound like a pirate ship."

The Mantavor smile and shook his head. "No. Navy."

Almeda leaned forward. "Navy?"

"Ex-navy, actually," the Mantavor corrected.

Almeda waited for him to go on.

The Mantavor rubbed its claw together, money. Almeda stifled a snarl and threw him the coppers.

The Mantavor bit one, pocket the rusty bits, and went on. "The Legacy was captained by the infamous Captain Amelia Smollet, or Amelia _Doppler_ as she's known now. A navy loose-cannon upstart, quit on them to do her own thing."

Almeda shook her head. "Her own thing was an expedition with _pirates?"_

"No, the pirate bit was a hostile takeover."

"It worked?" Almeda asked. "I thought that captain was still in business."

The Mantavor shrugged and did his best to look mysterious. "That's the thing. Nobody that wasn't on that trip really knows what happened. People say it was a search for Flint's trove."

Almeda snorted and the Mantavor raised his hands. "Just telling you what they say. But Silver and his men went, along with a few ex-navy officers and supposedly a couple others. But no one knows what happened. They surely didn't return with a treasure. And the mutiny must not have succeeded because the captain came back."

Almeda leaned forward. "But so did Silver. How, exactly, did he convince the crew not to fight?"

The Mantavor answered: "Nobody knows. As far as I can tell, the only ones who returned were the captain, a scientist, a navigator, Silver, and a boy."

Almeda turned to him. "A boy? What was a child doing on that trip? Was he one of the pirates?"

"Nobody knows why," the Mantavor answered. "But, far as I can tell, he was no pirate. What I heard was that the captain, Miss Smollet herself, helped him into the Interstellar Academy."

Almeda leaned back, thinking. Flint's trove. But no treasure returned. Only a handful of men survived. A kid. She rubbed her temples. Was any of this connected to what she was looking for?

"Do you know the names of the surviving crewmembers?" asked Almeda.

The Mantavor grinned. "A bit of cold metal might jog my memory. Almeda briefly considered putting the barrel of her flintlock under his chin as a bit of cold metal. But instead she passed him several more coins.

"The captain married the scientist," the Mantavor said. "So he is named Doppler. The navigator doesn't have a name besides some . . . oh!" (he looked briefly frustrated) "Some nickname or somat. He was crazy."

Almeda paused, noticing her informant hadn't offered the name of the last crewmember.

"What," she asked. "Do you need more persuasive (or sterner) jogging?"

The Mantavor's face slid into a slow, mean smile. "Why these questions, ma'am?"

Almeda leaned forward, face cold. "Since when do you ask questions that don't concern you?"

The Mantavor's face still wore an infuriating grin. "Well, one wonders. Why do you want to know about _them?"_

"Why do I want to spill your guts on this floor?" Almeda asked.

The Mantavor shook his head mockingly.

"Go on and tell me," said Almeda. "If you're waiting for money then . . ."

"Hasty again," the Mantavor said. He prepared to go on, making her wait a bit.

Almeda tried to hide it, but she was chomping at the bits. If this worked, she would have at least three leads, three people who should know something. Or, she paused, or maybe . . . maybe she only needed one?

"The boy's name," said the Mantavor, studying the coins that made up his pay, "Is James Pleiades Hawkins."

_Well, there you have it. Chapter two is up. I was thinking that I wouldn't post any more chapters until I got at least one review *coughs* But I changed my mind because I got the idea that at least _one_ *coughety cough* person was reading this. I still might quit is someone doesn't *cough snark cough cough* review. Then again, I might. Also, sorry for how long this chapter was. I was trying to figure out just what Almeda would have to hear to get the idea that Jim is who to hunt down. I also noticed I wrote a lot of body-language in; sorry about this. I was visualizing the people talking while I wrote and I saw a lot of body-language in my head. Sorry if that bothers anyone. That is, if anyone *great big giant COUGH* is here._

_Oh right, credits: Well, Lekdera is the Mantavors' (Scroop's race) home planet. The Emi's is named after me friend (Sillybobbit). Yup, I think that's it._


	3. Chapter 3

_Okay, originally I accidentally wrote another chapter about Almeda that I was going to stick here. But I figured you might be tired of hearing about her. It was really because It still didn't seem like she had enough reason to go postal on Jim. But for now, we're taking a break from both Almeda and Silver and going to the Cresentia. Enjoy._

_Disclaimer: Treasure Planet belongs to Disney. Only OC's are mine. Don't eat me._

Chapter 3: Way Start Your Day Like An Idiot

_He was standing on the brink of a cliff. It was a beautiful place—the sort of place he loved to go. He had never seen this place, he was sure of it. But he had the strange sense that he had been here before. He tried to grasp at threads of memories that didn't seem quite his. And as he was trying to remember, the whole sky seemed to darken; the darkness was moving, gradually blotting out the stars. It was coming, he felt with a shock of certainty, for him. He tried to move, but there was nowhere to go. The stars were falling—no it was snow, a whiteness ever thickening with the dark coming behind it. Then there were images, voices in the snow._

"_No!"_

"_Please!"_

_There were desperate cries filling the air in front of him; and he saw people falling, cut down. He didn't understand. He wanted to move, to stop it. Or to run. But he couldn't move. He covered his ears but it didn't blot out the cries. The snow was splattered with blood and it was raining on him, blood and snow. _

_Then the cries died down. As though being muffled by something. He realized he was still crouched surrounded by snow. He looked up, and there was something there, the darkness. But the darkness was a person, though he didn't know._

"_Get up," a voice came out of the darkness. He stood, shakily. _

"_You did this," the dark figure said, gesturing to where the gruesome scenes had been played out._

"_No, I don't know what you mean," he said._

_The figure loomed over him. "Look at your hands," it said. _

_He did. He realized with horror that they were covered in blood, blood completely soaking his skin and dying it with death up to the wrists. There was snow all around him. He gathered up a handful and tried to wash the blood off. Nothing happened. He thrust his arms into the snow. He scrubbed frantically. He began tearing at his own skin when nothing happened. He realized he was screaming._

_He looked up. The figure watched him contemptusously._

"_I'm coming for you," the figure said. Suddenly an army of smaller figures, dark outlines of cutthroats and pirates formed behind her and then merged into the darkness that the figure was enveloped back into. And then disappeared and the world was enveloped in darkness._

Jim jumped, waking up and falling out of his bed with a thunk.

"Ow," he rubbed his head.

Jim heard a patter of feet and the creak of the door opening. He looked up wincing. Three pairs of eyes were peeking around the door. It was three of the Doppler children: Kim, Jacob, and Martha. The youngest, Alice wasn't there.

The children looked slightly guilty when caught staring. But after a moment Kim, the eldest of the foursome, just stared Jim down. She looked like her mother when she did that; she was the most commanding and organized of the children, with short red hair that curled at the ends no matter how short she cut it, a sprinkling of freckles, and glasses as she was nearsighted.

Jacob, the one boy, looked nervous. Of course, he idolized Jim so much he might have just wondered if he had to take up the painful habit of falling out of his bed onto his head in order to be like his hero. Or maybe he wondered what was going on since he'd left his glasses . . . somewhere and couldn't see too well.

"Hey," Martha said frankly, after a moment. The third child, she was the odd one of the family, not much like her studious father or her commanding mother in looks or personality.

"Hey," Jim replied, trying to shake the fog out of his head.

There was the sound of little bare feet walking down the hall as the youngest daughter, the blonde, petite, Alice looked into the room.

"Why are you on the floor?" she asked wide-eyed.

Jim grimaced. "I, quite frankly, have no idea."

"I do," Kim offered. "I believe you simply fell."

Jim stood, rubbing his head. Then he glanced at the girl, unable to tell if she was joking or not.

Martha glanced over her shoulder and then back at the assembled company.

"If you want breakfast than hurry, people; it's about to start."

The other children didn't bother asking if Martha was sure. Their sister always knew things. The children scrambled out of the room.

"You coming?" Jacob asked over his shoulder.

Jim felt a splitting headache coming on. And he would much rather go back to bed. Although . . . he had an vaguely unsetting feeling. Maybe it had to do with a dream . . . if he could remember what he'd been dreaming.

"I'll be down in a minute, Jacob," Jim said, smiling. "And, after breakfast, if your mom lets us, lets get back to work on that hoverskate project, kay?"

Jacob's face broke into a grin. "'Kay!" he called racing downstairs.

"I'd like an asprin for breakfast," Jim thought, making the guest bed. He had the weekend off from academy work, and was staying with the Dopplers; he'd gotten here last night. His mother was supposed to be coming down to spend the rest of the weekend with them as well. She'd be bringing BEN and Morph too. Jim couldn't help but grin, forgetting his sense of uneasiness.

"I love weekends."

"I love pancakes," somebody said. Jim jumped and turned. Standing in the doorway was Dr. Doppler in his eccentric dressing gown, holding some books with papers randomly sticking out of them.

"Are pancakes on the menu?" Jim asked, smiling.

"Well," the Dr. said, taking out a pair of glasses and trying to put them on. He found them inexplicably small and stared at the object.

"I think those might be Kim's," Jim said innocently, finishing with the bed.

"Ah, I believe you may be right," the Dr. said. "Let's hurry. I'm not keen on missing breakfast." He turned and began walking down the stairs. Jim only found one boot and glared at it before poking around under the bed.

"Mr. Hawkins! Do you intend to make an appearance this morning or shall we consign you to the realm of sloth?" a voice yelled from downstairs.

Jim cringed at the Captain's tones.

"Hurry. Remember, your mother is coming for you."

Jim stopped cold. _Coming for you. Coming for you?_ The dream came back to him with a shock. Someone was coming. No, more than one. He'd seen pirate crews assembling. He normally didn't think of dreams as anything but an annoyance. But this one felt so odd. He felt a strange certainty that they were coming for him. Uh . . . whoever they were.

With a sense of panic, Jim grabbed the second boot from under the bed and ran downstairs.

"Ma'am!" he yelled, rounding the corner into the dining room.

The family glanced at him, stumbling around and pulling on his boots.

"_Yes,_ Mr. Hawkins?" Amelia said, with raised eyebrows.

Blame it on not being fully awake. But Jim felt panicked.

"We need to hurry!" he said, falling over, after a failed attempt to get his second boot on.

"Why, praytell?" asked Amelia. The children watching the antics of their friend wordlessly.

"They're coming!" he blurted. "The pirates! They're coming here!"

Jim stood up and found everyone staring at him.

"_What_ pirates? _Why_ are they coming here? And, most importantly, _how_ do you know, Mr. Hawkins?" Amelia asked.

With the first panic gone, Jim felt his face redden.

"I, uh," he started. "I . . . I'm not sure."

"Aren't sure? You seemed fairly certain," Kim noted.

"Uh . . ."

"Mr. Hawkins!" Amelia said.

"Sorry," Jim muttered. "I just had this feeling . . ."

"This _feeling?_" Amelia asked, contemptuously. "We operate on fact. We are naval officers, not a smoke-and-mirrors phsycic operation."

Jim sat at the end of the table, ruffling his hair and letting it fall into his face. "Sorry, I don't know . . ." he trailed off.

When he glanced up he met the eyes of Jacob, sitting across the table from him.

"Can we still work on the hoverskates?" Jacob asked.

Jim grinned, glancing at the Captain who had gone to reading a newspaper while the Dr. was absorbed in a book.

"I think so," he whispered conspiratorially, leaning in. "But let's see how quick and quite we can be about our getaway. Your mom might not really want to send you off to work with a _crazy_ person."

Jabob laughed.

Martha raised her eyebrows in their direction before asking. "Well, what _do_ you think of the Octurian trade issues?"

Her mother set down the paper and stared at the child. "The _what?"_

"That's what it says on the paper you're reading," Martha said. "It's about Octurian trade issues so what do you think?"

Her family looked mystified. Kim rolled her eyes while her parents stared. Jim grinned and shrugged. At least Martha had taken their minds off his antics. He would probably be in disfavor with the captain all day for it.

He shook his head. "Way to make an idiot of yourself," he thought. Just forget it. His mother and friends were coming—it was the weekend. It had only been a dream. But . . . for those few minutes it had seemed so _real. _The menace had seemed so close, he thought as he went back to breakfast.

It was.

_Well, there you have it. Chapter three. As I said, originally I had another Almeda chapter. But I could just see your eyes bugging out at a third barroom talk in as many chapters. I could just imagine accidentally killing you with death-by-barroom scene. So I spared you._

_I know the dream was a bit odd. But I wanted to write about Jim and the Dopplers. Actually, I've spent quite a bit of time making up names and personalities for the Dopplers. Honestly, though, I think there are a lot of people who have Jacob idolizing Jim, dunno who started it._

_Aside from that, the credits are simply this: Treasure Planet © Disney._

_Thanks for reading. Please review._


	4. Chapter 4

_Well, I was really in two minds about putting this chapter up. In fact, I went to reviews and asked if you wanted it or not. And then when I got on today I realized people don't just hang out in reviews when they have nothing to do. "Oh, great idea that one was." But I just found out that in moments I'm off and have to forfeit the computer for the rest of the day and I figured I owed you a chapter. So here you go. Please promise not to sue if you almost die by barroom scene ^_^_

_Treasure Planet © Disney._

_OC's are mine._

_Please review._

_Enjoy!_

Chapter 3: Your days are numbered kid

James Pleiades Hawkins. Almeda repeated that name over and over until it became a mantra. That name became the driving force of her life.

She'd first had her suspicions that day at the Emi's on Ledkera when her Mantavor contact mentioned the boy. Over the next weeks that suspicion solidified into certainty as Almeda traveled to different ports, asked different aquaintences, learned different things. Most of the accounts had to be taken with a grain of salt. But through questioning she found out circumstances, a snatch from an Ons in Leboon, a fragment from a Canid visiting Flatula:

Silver had gone to the mining planet of Montressor only days before the voyage, visiting the Benbow inn.

A few days later, a boy appeared from Montressor, lived in the Benbow inn, with a token necessary for Silver's voyage.

The boy had been assigned for no apparent reason to the supervision of Silver.

The pirates under Silver didn't know a thing about the boy.

Only five people returned alive (and apparently going to stay that way); the party included Silver and the boy.

Silver was to be tried and sentenced for piracy but somehow escaped.

Even that could have been taken as coincidence until one night as Almeda walked towards the Hughs pub a drifter outside of the Cresentia. Apparently there were some informant here who had firsthand knowledge of the trip.

Almeda walked towards the dark building and pushed open the door walking towards the back where her informants had volunteered to meet her.

She raised her eyebrows when she saw a Gibher with one of it's leg's chained to a bolt in the back wall. It was a female, older middle-aged, and with a face that bespoke a nasty temperament. Behind her sat a large Tuskus man, a menacing figure in the shadows.

"Well?" Alemda asked, hand on hip.

"Who're you?" asked the Gibher shrilly.

Almeda took out her lazer pistol and began casually polishing the metal fillagree.

"Guess," she answered.

The Gibher woman looked at her suspiciously.

Almeda looked at the pair, slightly irritated. "Tell me what you know."

" 'Bout what?" asked the Gibher.

Almeda glanced at them from under her brows. "I'm trying to learn about the alleged voyage to Flint's hideaway. In particular," she said, drawing out a purse. "Tell me about your cabin boy."

The Tuskus man grunted in surprise.

"Why?" asked the Gibher, suspiciously.

"If I'm right about him,:" Almeda said, "I intend to kill the whelp." She was very right in guessing that these two would appreciate that answer. "But," she went on, "If you don't know anything I can take my cash and . . ."

The Gbher woman slapped her free leg down on the floor. "If you want to kill that one, we'll tell you anything."

"Oh," said Almeda, with fake innocence, "You don't mind me killing a kid?"

"Look at these chains!" the Gibher woman exclaimed, showing her chafed and scarred wrists and the weight of her chains. "_He_ did this to me."

"Oh really?" Almeda asked, "All by himself?"

The Tuskus, who seemed the more intelligent, though quieter, of the two grunted perceptively, "He had help."

"Well, shipmates," Almeda said, sliding onto a bench. "I think we can come to an agreement. Tell me what you know." She extended her hand.

The Tuskus man shook it, "Shwartzkopf." He said.

Almeda raised an eyebrow. "Well, isn't that a mouthful?" she asked.

"Mary," the woman on the floor said.

"Almeda," Almeda answered.

Mary's face broke into an ecstatic (albeit cruel) smile. "The Almeda? The hunter? The markswoman? He's dead!" She cackled.

"Tell me," Almeda asked. "What did you know of the boy before the trip?"

"Nothing!" Mary said.

"That's just it," said Shwartskopf.

"Yeah," said Mary.

Almeda rolled her eyes. "That's what?"

Mary leaned in, "That's what made it strange. The boy getting away with it at all was unbelievable."

"Getting away with . . . ?" Almeda asked.

"You don't think that infant would've gotten away alive by himself!"

"Silver," said Swartsjopf, an undertone of anger in his voice.

"Oh?" asked Almeda.

"Yes!" Mary banged her leg on the table. "Our _captain _just let him go."

"What a captain," Almeda observed.

"Yes," the Tuskus said. "He spent years gathering us, making promises, leading us. And he turned around and let all of us die quickly or be hung by the navy. And he let the boy go."

It was quite the speech for the quiet individual. He must be pretty angry.

"Do you have any idea why? Did you have any suspicions before you were so _betrayed_ by your captain."

"No," Mary said. "It didn't make any sense, why."

"We didn't really know. Some of us wondered," Swartskopf said. "Until Scroop challenged him, Silver. Then a lot of us wondered. But he denied."

Almeda looked between them. "Did you notice anything the rest of the voyage?"

"They hated eachother," Mary stated. "At least, for the first part of the trip."

"Something changed," the Tuskus said.

"Yeah! He said it was part of the strategy," Mary said.

"Well," Almeda said. "After denying it, then what? How'd he prove it?"

"We thought he did," Swartskopf said.

"Yeah, yeah," Mary continued. "They attacked, blew apart his hiding place, shot at him with the cannon and everything."

Almeda leaned in, interested. "What then?"

"Mary shrugged. "Then it was crazy. We kidnapped all of the enemies. They made the boy show us the treasure . . ."

"You saw it? You were there?" Almeda interrupted. "Was it like people say?"

A look of rapture came over the features of the disgusting slave and wonder appeared on the quiet one's face.

"It was . . . it was more numerous than the stars, it stretched out forever," Mary said dreamily.

"More than the entire Empire has ever amassed," said the other.

Almeda stared at them in open wonder. This was unexpected. She knew all the stories, Silver's reputation. That haul was his obsession. And from what this decrepit pair said, it was more than imagined. But then where . . . ?

"Where is it?" asked Almeda.

The two snapped out of their reverie. They stared at her.

"That was the strangest part," said Swartskopf.

"It was crazy!" said Mary. "It was rigged to all explode. It was trailing off. The kid and Silver both found a boat full of treasure, they looked like they were fighting over it. But then . . . then he let go," said Mary indreulously. "Silver let that go and saved that, that _ingrate_ instead!"

Almeda leaned back in her seat. Incredible. Impossible, she would've said. But they were there. What possible explanation could there be for that? What indeed . . .

Almeda sat silently, adding things up. Gave up the treasure, that obsession, for the boy. And, come to think of it, hadn't Silver spent those months after the Leboon raids on the human planet of Terra back, oh seventeen years ago? Any humans of Montressor would be immigrants from Terra. It added up, the boy was the right age. And what other reason could there possibly be? Oh, she knew Silver. Well, didn't know him personally. But knew his repuatation from ever pirate port, every tavern keeper, every story, and her encounter. She was satisfied. There was only one explanation.

She pushed the purse over to the pair. The Gibher looked disgusting and pathetic chained to the wall. And the other was a solid lump.

"You don't care if I kill that kid?"

The Gibher stared at her. "Look at me?" she said, aluding to her chains and setting. "That boy did this to me. I could have lived, could have had more than the _queen_. Look at me," she shook her chains.

"Yes," said Swatrzkopf, standing. "Everyone died. All that didn't die in the trap on the planet, were to be killed slowly and publicly. Only we are left. And look at us."

Almeda nodded. "Well, you have my word . Within the month, the kid'll be dead."

As she walked into the cold night outside she thought, "Your days are numbered James Pleiades Hawkins."

_Well, whadya think? I know, I know, another Almeda chapter. But I kept thinking she still didn't have enough evidence to warrant her killing Jim yet._

_Also, I don't have the foggiest what Birdbrain Mary's race was supposed to be called. I wanted something to call her. Normally it isn't that hard to guess: Ursa—Ursid, Canine—Canid, Feline—Felid. I remembered that the animators said that her legs or appendages or whatever worked like a Gibbon's arms when she wasn't moving and functioned like a heron's legs when she was walking or running. So I just took the first syllable from each. If you know the real name, please let me know._

_Also, I know Shwartzkopf is supposed to be dead. After writing this, I looked back and realized he wasn't one of those who survived. He didn't fall into lava or get blasted or anything. He was one of those that floated off into space. But I really wanted a big quiet scary guy from the crew and all of them float off into space. I've read stories, where, say, Scroop survives and ends up hurtling onto some ship or planet or something. I'll just pretend that happened with Swartzkkopf, or something. If you're a purist, please don't kill me. I'm also willing to bet I spelled his name differently every time I wrote it . . . _

_Oh, and the Hughs is named after someone, who, if they lived in the TP world would be related to Birdbrain Mary^_^ _

_Oop, that's it for now. I need to move my lazy carcass._

_Thanks for reading!_


	5. Chapter 5

_Hello everyone! Another chapter up. Don't worry; it isn't Almeda. This time it's Silver (bout time too, huh?). Also, thank you all a million bajillion times for reading. As of today this story has had 100 hits. While that might not seem like much to you more experienced authors, it means the world to me. So, thank you!_

_Treausre Planet © Disney. Only OC's are mine._

_If you click that little button at the bottom that says, "Review this Chapter," you get a free wish ^_^ _

_Enjoy!_

Chapter 5: Behind Schedule

It's hard to get people to do what you want, and get it done the right way, at the best of times. When you're in the middle of nowhere, your lackeys are . . . slow at best, well, it's harder. Couple that with anxiety to get going (as in, ripping your hair out by the roots and screaming at people kind of anxious) and life is heck for everyone in the immediate vicinity.

Yeah, Silver was having a good time. Being stuck way out here, seven days from the Coral Galaxy even going at fifty keks, was a problem. What he wanted was people to just do what they were told and get a move on to the Cresentia.

Another problem was the natives of the town, Emiliana's. A mixed group of backwater aliens, none of them very experienced spacers. They'd been slowed down even more when he'd gotten into a stupid haggling war over the only decent-sized airship at the docks.

Originally, he'd wanted to just take his long boat and sail, fast as possible, to the Cresentia himself.

But that plan changed when a group of Captain Bart's men had come this direction, talking about how Almeda could easily tale a group of metal men anywhere. And (darn the luck) that she most definitely had the power to get a posse of trained snipers and the money to hire the fastest prey-ship in the galaxy.

But what did Silver have? A bunch of locals who wouldn't know a mast if it fell on them.

He walked around in his own personal storm. And heaven help you if you were in his path.

"_Men! The town is ours!" he could hear the words coming from his mouth. _

_Hours later, running from tavern to store to street and they were out of control._

"_I said looting! What are you doing?" he had roared to Scroop, as Scroop's men in a drunken rage shot down anyone who fought back at all._

"_Me? _I _am doing nothing."_

"_What? Look at your men!"_

"_Would you care to try with them," Scroop has said, a slight smile forming at the thought of any one person trying to stem the flow of blood and rum going on around them._

_This trip was turning into a nightmare, Silver thought, walking back through the carnage. Things were quieting down. People hid in partly wrecked homes trying to stifle the whimpering of their children in hopes that no one would notice that they were there._

_Silver paused by a small stone cottage with one of the walls collapsed. Wreckage of household possessions were scattered around the yard._

_He paused over an overturned cradle that looked like it had been smashed in with an ax. A few feet away a small homemade rag doll lay sprawled in the snow with one of its arms ripped off._

_He took the thing, staring around him. How had this happened?_

"Sir," said an Octid that Silver, in his preoccupation had almost run into.

Silver came up short as the other tried not to drop the boards he was holding.

"Sir, the repairs to the Floatsam's flank are about done, Sir, if you would care to come. . ." he lost one of the boards and went down after it, "And look, Sir."

Silver gave a gruff nod and walked to the docks. Curse this town and its sorry excuse for men.

The ship stood there, in all its awkward, bulky, dilapitaded grandeur.

"This tub is yours?" asked a voice. Silver turned in surprise to see a Mander leaning against one of the stacks of boards.

Silver recognized the lizardlike alien. "Mankel," he said, extending his hand.

"John," the other answered, returning the handshake.

"What brings you to this godforsaken dump?" Silver asked, mind on the repairs left.

"I need to make myself scarce for awhile," Menkel smiled. "A few of us broke into our, ah, employer's safe. We were underpaid," he said with fake sincerity. "Cheated."

"Anyway," he added with a smirk, "He was already mad because he had an assassination to carry out and he couldn't get that Almeda to do it for him."

"What?" Silver asked.

"She said she was busy," Menkel smiled. "Said she had a personal job to attend to."

"What job?"

"Well, I have your full attention now, don't I?" Menkel said. "She said she was gone hunting. Dunno who it was, didn't recognize the name. They say she's after a James Hawkins."

"Well, that settles it," Silver thought. "Time to get this show on the road."

Later that night, going over the worklist for the next day, his thoughts weren't on the tasks at all. Silver kept catching himself trying to remember if he'd seen Alemda that day. If she'd been anywhere. If one of those who had cried out to him while being cut down, if one of those screaming as they watched their neighbors fall, if one of those children had been her. He suppressed a shudder.

"Get back to work," he thought. That was all over. But there was a task at hand to be dealt with. And his thoughts were elsewhere.

"_I'm done!" a young voice called._

"_Don't run off yet!" he yelled back. "Let's check it."_

_He walked over to see. The extra sails were neatly rolled up (though hastily shoved together into a pile) and tied. He pulled at the knots, checking them._

"_Well it may have taken all of two months," he said, smiling,  
But it appears you've learned to tie a knot."_

_He glanced over at the boy. Jim was trying to look angry about the insult and trying very, very hard not to smile._

"_Let's get something to drink. It's hot out here today," Silver said, walking back to the galley, Jim following. Silver opened a water keg and collected some mugs._

"_Of course," he said, ladling the water while Jim threw himself on a nearby bench. "You've seen enough slipknots over the last fortnight ta show you how not to do it."_

_Jim slowly stopped grinning. "Yeah," he said after a moment._

_Silver glanced at him, wondering if he was miffed about the insult. No, he wasn't _that_ uptight._

"_Saw 'em at home," he said._

"_Is that where you learned to tie 'em that way?" Silver grinned, handing over a cup._

_Jim leaned further back against the wall. "Yeah. Sometimes our boat was tied that way. Sometimes it was different; I couldn't figure out how to tie that knot. But it got to be tied in a slipknot more often the longer we had it." _

_Silver didn't understand what on earth the boy was talking about. _

_Jim's mind seemed to be elsewhere. He scowled._

"_Just always made it easier when you wanted to go somewhere and leave," the boy said, looking like he might throw the mug at the wall._

_Silver got about his work and pretended he didn't notice his friend's mood._

"_That so?" he asked, nonchalantly._

_Jim walked over, fake nonchalance written all over his face. _

"_Yup," he said, slamming the cup down on the counter and turning to get back to work._

"_Just like the night before Leland took the boat."_

_Silver glanced over his shoulder while the boy walked up the stairs . . . _

The morning dawned bright and the few shreds of cloud were scattering over the Emiliana's. Silver looked out the window. Back to work. Within the week, he thought, the Floatsam should be ready to sail—as elsewhere Alemda was making a promise: "Within the month, the boy will be dead."

Now it was just a race.

_There you have it. To those of you who are still reading, thanks a million!_

_Ah, credits: The Emiliana's is named for sillybobbit. I'm just guessing that the Octopus-like aliens (like Mr. Turnkbuckly) are called Octids and I made up the salamander-people thing. Once again, if you know the real names, if they exist, please let me know)._

_Please let me know what you think. Remember, review and you get a wish^_^_


	6. Chapter 6

_I'm late, I believe. So sorry. My laptop was attacked by a killer virus (death to viruses and those who create them) and is in laptop hospital. So I stole (I mean, borrowed, someone else's). Then I thought about inserting a chapter between the last one and this one and was working on it when I realized I didn't really have enough info in it to warrant a whole chapter and it was boring. So I moved on. That and I've been carried away by a few jobs, summer school, and a new DeviantArt account. Btw, I have a few sketches connected to this story up (link to my DA can be found in my profile here). Now I have a mug of tea, a stolen laptop, a plan, and some quiet, so here goes. Anyway, thanks for continued support. Thanks for reading. Please review!_

_As if you aren't tired of hearing it: Treasure Planet © Disney._

_OC's © TheInkgirl._

Chapter 6: Playing Games

Derek looked over the maps in his captain's quarters and smiled. His Procyon features lit with concentration. Not long now, not long until a piece of the Empire came away in his hands—and the pieces would start coming together for him.

"A bit unorthodox, perhaps," he said to himself, with a slight smile, "But it should bear striking results."

The young officer couldn't have been past his early twenties. His captain's coat wore tight and stiff, very new and little worn.

Well, to be specific, it wasn't exactly supposed to be his yet. And the ship? That wasn't supposed to be his either. But, under his forged letter of Marque, he sailed at ease. It would have been the brash Procyon's first command, if it had been given to him.

To put it bluntly, the ship was stolen, the crew illegal, the command forged. As a matter of fact, if Derek was caught by his seniors, he would be tried and, most likely, convicted of high treason and hung.

But the youth didn't seem to care. He had no intentions of being caught. The higher-ups were forever sucking up to the Terran Empire, forever dominated and subdued. But Derek had no intention of spending his life dominated and subdued. All the death sort of gloom and doom would not be visited on him if he succeeded. The way he saw it, the Procyons would have a much better chance of success if they ever got out and took a chance. That's what he was doing. If he succeeded, he would have, single-handedly, and against all expectations, have taken one of the largest and most strategic ports in the Terran Empire. He would be taking handholds on his oppressors. He would be a decorated and daring officer of the Procyon fleets, a hero.

Derek glanced at his maps again, and then out the windows. They were sailing straight and true, right to the spaceport of Montressor.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Kim was beating Jacob and Emma, teamed against her, to a pulp in a game of chess on the floor, their conquered men in a heap beside her. Martha sat cross-legged in the high-backed chair above the despairing faces of Jacob and Emma, watching the game with her odd, slight smirk.

"Wowwie! These work great!" BEN's voice came, sailing around the corner at full speed on Jacob's recently-constructed hoverskates. "I bet they'd work even better if I could steerrrrrrrrrrrr!" the voice ended in a wail as Ben crashed into the wall with a bone-jarring thump.

Kim rolled her eyes and knocked another piece off the board.

"You're sure you have everything?" Sarah's stressed voice came in from the kitchen, as she followed Jim (with Morph over his shoulder) to the door. "You ate? You have your work? You got your jacket?"

Jim grinned. "I'm fine," he said as he stepped out the door. "But you forgot something," he called over his shoulder from outside. "Check your pockets!" Then he was gone.

Sarah knit her brows and felt in her apron pocket. She brought out a metal object, a large hairclip, shaped in slender vines curling around each other with buds just beginning to flower.

Her look melted into one of pure happiness. "He always does this," she said. "And I always forget that he will."

"Hey!" BEN called from the kitchen. "I think Jimmy left something else! All this chocolate doesn't belong to anyone else does it?"

The Doppler children began a mad dash to the kitchen to share in the spoils.

Coming back from the kitchen with pockets filled with candy, the children went back to the living room to finish the game (which both Jacob and Emma looked considerably more cheerful about now that they were going to be on a sugar high).

As they played, Martha watched out the window awhile.

"Hey," she said, still looking outside, after about fifteen minutes.

"Is it important? I'm crushing enemy scum!" Kim said.

"I am not!" Jacob said. "I'm not whatever you said."

"Hold up down there," Martha said. After a few more minutes looking out the window while her sibling pulverized each other, Martha jumped down from the chair.

"Let's go into town," she said, making for the door.

The others looked at each other, midfight.

"Why?" Jacob asked.

"Should we?" Emma asked. "By ourselves, I mean." She looked around at the others nervously.

"What for, Marth?" Kim asked.

Martha turned around to look at them.

"Do you know any good reason for a modified longboat with no ship to be skimming around the docks like it's looking for something?"

Kim put her hands on her hips. "Maybe because it's _looking for something._  
Good call there, Marth." She started to leave.

"When I say, modified," Martha went on, "I mean, giant pirated motors to make a little boat go unusually fast and grapplers like a prey-ship."

Her siblings glanced at each other.

"Ever seen it before?" Jacob asked.

"Nope," Martha answered.

"Did it look like it was coming here?" worried Emma.

"Noo," said Martha. "It turned and went down towards the Cresentia."

The children looked at eachother.

"Well," said Kim, hands on hips, "I'm all for it."

"Okay!" Jacob said.

"Do you really think…" Emma tried.

"We can take the ferry," Martha said as they turned towards the door. "Dad's meeting Mom for lunch and we can just show up as a surprise."

"Okidoo," Jacob said, pulling the door shut behind them.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jim walked down the halls. The academy pushed you hard. Originally, at fifteen when he'd first come, he'd rather hoped to do flying tricks and just wow the pants off of everybody. Turned out, the academy was hard work. But it was completely worth it, he thought walking down the halls.

"Hey, Jim," Devon said, waving. Devon, a small, slender horse-like equid waved. The Equid was a lieutenant who assisted in classes at the school sometimes. A lot of the younger students were nervous or reluctant about him. But he'd had a much more interesting time since Jim had had no qualms about hanging with him.

"Hey!" Jim said. "New uniform."

"New promotion," his friend grinned. "Where you off to?"

"Well," Jim ran a hand through his hair, "After classes I have a meeting with Captain Doppler."

"Oh no!" Devon said, clapping his hands to his face in mock horror. "What have you done to get on her bad side? I always hope you'd live to twenty or so. What kind of flowers would you like at your funeral?"

Jim laughed. "Hopefully I'll live. Unfortunately it isn't even some broken rules or crazy experiment. I believe it's, as she would put it, a matter of idiocy."

"What did you _do_ at their house this weekend?" Devon asked.

"Acted like an idiot," Jim called over his shoulder as he headed off to class.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Almeda steered her little pirated and patched craft into one of the more remote docks on the Cresentia, feeling her way to the backstreets of the metropolis.

"So close I could almost _taste_ his blood," she thought, driven. Then she caught herself and laughed, "Metaphorically speaking of course."

This town. Several thousand souls went about their business here. One out of the thousands. One, and she knew where to find him.

"Now," she thought, docking. "How shall I get in?"

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The Doppler children made it to the spaceport without mishap. Jacob always climbing around the ferry, "looking out!" He said, when Kim asked him what, exactly, he thought he was doing. Emma worried and wondered and nobody much listened to her. Kim and Jacob were too excited. And nobody could here much over Kim shouting orders like a slavemaster. Martha felt a little bad about scaring Emma. But Emma was bright, and sharp-eyed. And level-headed, Martha decided. The others might get carried away, but Emma would keep her feet on the ground.

The ferryman was plenty glad to get rid of his loud charges as he dropped them off in front of the greatest naval school in the Empire, the Interstellar Academy.

"Now," Martha wondered. "How shall we get in?"

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Almeda had stood in front of the imposing doors not long before the children had.

Wrought iron gates two stories high stood shutting out the world and bridging the gap in the brick walls that surrounded the stone building reaching to the sky.

Almeda craned her neck back, looking to the top of the building, just barely able to see it as the glare hit off of it backlighting the whole massive builing.

"Nope," Almeda said. "Through the door, not gonna happen."

"However," she said to herself with a smirk, looking down the walls, "through a picked lock in the back? Definite possibility."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The children had a rather different plan. Well, four rather different plans. Jacob thought they should scale the walls, drop down the other side, climb up to the second story (not the first, "They'd be expecting that," he'd said) and break and pick a lock on the window.

Kim said if they were going to pick locks, they might as well try the door. And anyway, she was all for marching up and demanding to be let in. They were Dopplers after all.

Emma was all for leaving and going home and finishing their game over tea. Or, at least, just waiting until their parents came out for lunch.

Martha was all for not climbing anything. She was for just knocking. And in the end, over heated (and occasionally violent) debate, her plan was accepted.

Kim banged on the gates.

The gatekeeper came over grumbling about how _nobody_ used the gates in the middle of the morning. But when he saw who was there, he let them in off the streets. He was right that people normally didn't use the gates in the middle of the morning. But, at the moment, someone was picking a backdoor lock.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Once inside, the children split up, Kim taking command.

"Emma," she said, "Stay at the front windows upstairs. Watch for that boat and anyone sneaking anyone in here." Emma nodded and sighed, slightly miffed at being here.

"Jacob, Martha, split up and patrol the halls here."

"Guard duty?" Jacob complained. Martha just nodded, smiling.

"I'll take the door and use a candlestick in case anyone tries to get it. Remember, Emma, they probably won't come in here. Just keep an eye on the harbor. But we have secrets in here. We don't want them in."

The children nodded. Kim was enjoying herself, Martha noted. Good, guard duty it was.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Almeda picked a sidedoor lock with little difficulty and crept in, closing the door silently behind her as she scanned the halls around here.

No knowing where exactly, and who exactly, in this building was Jim Hawkins, JPH, Mr. I'm-about-to-die. She smiled. She knew who _would_ know. But first she would need a story. And, she glanced around the corner, seeing an unsuspecting victim, "Ah, officer," she corrected herself, she would need a costume. Bingo.

Devon never saw it coming. If you had told him that morning he would have to suffer the indignity, of, not only being ambushed and taken by surprise as a prisoner, but to add insult to injury by being ambushed by a girl with a mop as a weapon and being dragged to a utility closet as a prison.

Almeda locked her unconscious prisoner in the closet and emerged in his uniform. She scowled at the buttons, tugging at her color. No, she shook her head, it wasn't a perfect fit. But it wasn't too far off. A little long in the legs and arms. A little tight in the bust and a little loose in the waist. But, for a random pick, it wasn't half bad, she decided. Now, off to find an unsuspecting informant.

Almeda cocked her new hat and smiled, adopting a fake Airiluan accent for her new personality, "I just _love_ playing pretend."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_I was going to keep going with this chapter. But I'm beyond schedule. That and, I realized this was already turning out pretty long. And I realized I had enough to make a chapter between this and where I thought I would end. So, here you have it! Also, I know it's a bit spazy (back and forth and back and…). But anyway, here you have it. No credits really. Except I almost called Derek Dredge…until I remembered that the only place I'd heard that was those blue aliens on Titan A E. Anyway, chapter six. Thank you for reading. Please review._


	7. Chapter 7

_Here it is! Chapter seven. Sorry it's been awhile. _

_One thing I noticed, though, after this wait was, wow, no more reviews^_^ _

_Remember, I'm the author and I can view stats, over 300 hits and visitors and 10 reviews. Sigh. Don't get me wrong. I love you and thank you for reading. But feedback means the world to me. I mean, ten out of three hundred of you can review?_

_Don't worry, I'm mostly kidding. I really do love you and thank you for your continued support. Honestly? It makes my world go round that there are people in Singapore and Finland who are reading this. _

_Anyhow, thank you much for reading. I hope you enjoy. Please review—any feedback, positive, negative, one-word? I'll eat it up. Thank you! Enjoy!_

Chapter 7: Actors and Stalkers

Almeda walked down the halls, automatically adopting a different gait than her usual, and talking to herself quietly in the clipped tones of her fake Airluian accent. She strode this way, following halls and signs, until she came to a level of officers' offices and stopped in front of one with a plaque reading: Captain Amelia Smollet Doppler.

"Alright, Captain," Almeda said, smiling to herself, "Let's see if we can't get some _precise_ information out of you."

Almeda raised her hand and knocked.

"Yes, who is it?" came the preoccupied voice of the captain.

"Naval Lieutenant Amanda Graves, reporting, ma'am," Almeda answered, in full fake accent.

"Lieutenant _who?" _came Amelia's voice, muffled through the door.

Almeda smiled, turned the knob, and walked in. What she didn't notice was that she was being watched.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Martha watched silently as the strange woman entered her mother's office. At first, she'd thought of running over. But there didn't _seem_ to be any weapons on her. She chewed a nail, thinking hard. Then she turned and walked to the arranged meeting place.

Once back in their original hall, the children's voices rose, all competing with each other to be heard.

"I didn't see anything, not a thing!" Emma said, triumphantly angry.

"No one broke in or got out my door," Kim said. "Guards, did you see anything?"

"Yes," Jacob said. "Wait, no, I have to tell you what I didn't see."

"Why do you have to tell us what you _didn't_ see, Jacob?" asked Kim with exaggerated patience, hand on hip.

Jacob ignored her look.

"I didn't see Devon."

"So?" asked Emma.

"Jim said he and Devon were meeting to go over their plan for flight technique exhibition at 11:30."

"And?" Kim asked.

"He wasn't there!" Jacob said proudly, putting his hands behind his back.

"Yeah, but his outfit might have been," Martha said, interrupting her older sister's thoughts.

"What?" Kim asked, irritated. Why couldn't her sister just say things plain out?

Martha leaned back.

"A woman came in," Martha said, "walking around the halls. She was too old to be a student. But she didn't wear a uniform like an officer. I lost track of her for awhile. But then I saw her again going into Mom's office, in a uniform."

"She could have just changed into her uniform here," Kim said doubtfully.

"What if she came in the back 'stead of front?" asked Jacob. "They would've been expecting that."

Kim narrowed her eyes. "We were. Emma, run up and look out the backways to the lower docks. See if her boat is here."

Emma nodded, wide-eyed. The others didn't wait, just ran up after her.

After a few moments of looking down at the shoddy crafts, Emma pointed a trembling finger.

"Look."

They all did.

"Is that it?" Kim asked.

But they all knew it was. The craft was obviously patched together from the best parts of many vehicles, probably stolen. The pirated vessel tried hard, but failed to blend in with the shoddy work around it.

"Yup, that's it," said Martha, stating the obvious.

"What do we do?" asked Emma, panicked.

"Okay," Kim said, "Dad's coming at twelve thirty so we have about fifteen minutes before he does. Did this woman have any weapons, Marth?"

Martha shrugged. "Not that I saw."

"Maybe she's a spy!" Jacob interjected.

"Look," Kim said. "We block off all escape routes from Mom's office. If we can hold her in for fifteen minutes, then Dad'll be here."

The children nodded as Kim assigned their posts. But what Martha wondered was what they were saying down in that office? Ear-to-keyhole time.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Captain Doppler," Almeda said, taking her hat off and bowing with a flourish.

The Captain raised her eyebrows. Strange individual. She'd have thought she would be Felid, since her accent was Airiluan. But there were some other races on that planet.

Amelia rose and bowed.

"To what do I owe this _unexpected_ pleasure?" Amelia asked.

"My dear Captain, don't trouble yourself at all," Almeda said, sounding overblown (oh, she was enjoying herself—playacting was one of those things you didn't find much time to do in her business, usually).

Almeda said down and leaned back. Amelia frowned slightly before resuming her seat as well.

"Well you see, Captain," said Almeda gesturing around with her hat, "I was supposed to be on leave this week, but…" she leaned confidentially, "..you know, those of us in this line of work don't ever really get leave!" Alemda grinned.

"Well, so, my officer, (Captain.." er…what's a good name, Almeda wondered… "Johnston—real brick, he is) was telling me that if I was to be taking my leave near the Cresentia that there were a few people I ought to check in on. Now, here, a' course," Almeda leaned in again, "I told him that I hadn't a been planning to go that ways for a bag of stardust. And he tells me, Captain Johnston that is, he says, 'Amanda, old girl, you really ought to, fabulous place and all that, I could recommend…' So I ask him (so's he doesn't go on forever, 'cause you know he will), I asks and says, so, what do you want me to _do _there (cause I knew that's what it was)…"

Almeda relished the rather blank look on the proper Ailurian's face while she talked on. She couldn't help it! She just let loose and have fun. When you're normally being hired to shoot ambassadors, this was just something you didn't much do. But, Almeda reminded herself, she was working on her own terms, now.

Almeda waved her hands. "But you know, ta make a long story short (for ya know I'm all about keeping things brief)," the Captain raised her brows, "and, what it turned out to be, was a list, a list of students, students ya know from this very academy, who he'd a heard of who he wanted me to check on," Almeda said, pulling out a paper and pretending to read down it while not letting Amelia see it. "Well, ya know!" Almeda said, stuffing it back in her bag, "Talent and promising students and all that!

"So," Almeda said, leaning forward, elbows on Amelia's desk (which she didn't appreciate). "If ya could help me tie up this work?" she spread her hands.

Amelia studied the "lieutenant" in front of her with disapproval. Unpolished thing. Captain…er…whichever one she had mention, was most certainly not doing his job. Of course, it was always flattering when officers heard about certain students and were interested.

"Which students, ma'am?" Amelia asked, as politely as she could.

"Right," Almeda thought. "Quickly, quickly…"

"Well," she said, quickly, "This Avid navigator girl who was like super fast at calculating, this Canidean who e' heard had memorized the whole entire book!"

She said it as quickly as she could, hoping the Captain's Ailurians hearing was slower than her purported tongue.

Alemda sat back, pretending to think. "Oh, yeah!" she said, leaning back up, and snapping her fingers. "The one he told me to pay special attention to was…" she rolled her hand around like she was trying to think, "oh, you know, that kid who was on this special trip thing…who, like, saved the whole crew, and only like five people made it back, it was in the papers…"

Amelia quirked her ears forward. "Mr. Hawkins?"

Almeda snapped her fingers. "That's the one! Hawkins, James Pleiades Hawkins."

Amelia nodded, "One of out most unsual pupils."

"You know the one I mean? Thank goodness," Almeda sighed, leaning back. "I'm supposed to ask him some questions for me Captain. Where can I find him?"

Amelia scanned over a few papers. "Well, when classes are over I could arrange a meeting…"

Almeda considered that briefly. A planned meeting people would know about beforehand and would no doubt include this spick-and-span captain and maybe a few useless professors. What a nightmare! Try to shoot one particular person when there are three or four hysterical idiots running in circles. Not gonna happen, not if there was an easier way. But…

"Sure thing," Almeda said. "When's good for you?"

"Well, classes break at noon. But it'll be best after the day is over. Say, four, in my office?"

"Sounds good," Almeda said. "But, can I get a list of classes. Johnston asked to know what he was taking."

She was half-afraid the captain wouldn't give it to her. But Amelia handed her a spare schedule without a second glance.

"Well!" Almeda said, rising. "I'll let you get on with your work and all. See you this afternoon with your star student!" She gave a jaunty wave with her stolen hat before closing the door behind her.

Amelia shook her head. No wonder that lieutenant was given little tasks like this; probably wasn't fit for anything else. Not that she had seemed to mind.

Amelia stopped writing and considered. People were taking notice of Mr. Hawkins. That was a good thing; he was a promising boy. And a good boy, er, man, she corrected herself. She went on writing. If people wanted him, that a good thing.

Oh, people wanted him. Wanted him dead.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Almeda opened the door and walked out. When the door shut, she turned around and saw at her feet, the last thing she would have expected.

A child, Felid, was just standing there staring at her with an inscrutable expression.

"Kid," Almeda said. Why was this kid here?

The child didn't say anything. Creepy little thing, Almeda thought, turning and hurrying down the hall. What was the worry? Just a random little girl…standing outside the door… She turned the corner, picking up her pace. She had work to do.

Martha's eyes bored holes in Almeda's retreating back.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jim walked down the halls. A lot of people went into town for the midday break. The others were mostly congregated in the refectory or library—so the halls were quiet. But he was looking for Devon. They had been going to go over maneuvers for tomorrow; but he couldn't find him anywhere.

"Weird," Jim said, glancing into empty classrooms. I mean, if Devon was going to miss something, it wasn't going to be lunch. That equid had the appetite of a horse…

"Jim!" he heard a startled shriek at his feet as Emma Doppler sped to a stop.

"Emma?" he said, in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

The little girl tried to catch her breath, from running.

"Emma? Where are you?" they heard the irritated and slightly muffled tones of Kim.

Jim looked at the girl. "Why are you kids here?"

Kim and Jacob came hurrying around the corner.

"She got away!" Emma gasped. "I didn't know how to keep her in with mom!"

"Who?" asked Jim.

The oldest two Dopplers looked sightly sheepish; what kind of trouble would they be in?

Kim shook it off first. "The fugitive, of course!"

"The what?" Jim asked. Crazy kids. Man, they were all gonna be in trouble with the Captain when she found out.

Just then, Martha came walking around the corner. She watched a few seconds, unnoticed as the others made things even more confusing.

"Guys," she said, startling the utterly confused foursome. "I know what she's looking for now."

Kim was irritated when she found out that Martha had left of guarding to listen. But Martha explained the conversation. Jim felt a little thrill at the idea of great naval personalities interested in him. But…

"I still don't get it," he said. "Why were you spying on some lieutenant?"

The kids explained what they'd seen and why they were here.

"Please don't get us in trouble," Emma said.

Jim stared at them. It sounded very strange. And the fact that the kids had picked up on the oddness of it all surprised him.

"That's weird," Jim said. "But you shouldn't be here. I mean…"

"Why is she looking for you?" Martha asked.

"Why is she here, Mr. Hawkins, if she isn't up to something?" Kim asked, seeing Jim's disbelieving face.

"Look," Jim said, "Show me the craft." They led him up to a window and pointed. Well, that settled it, a pirate craft if he'd ever seen one. Actually, it was interesting, all those pieces that shouldn't be together. He kind of wished that there wasn't a criminal sneaking around here so he could go take a joyride…but! Back to reality.

He saw four worried faces looking at him for guidance.

"Coming here for students was probably just cover to get in," Jim said. "It's a small craft, probably a con-woman. Probably here to steal," he honestly couldn't think of any other reason for a thief to be here. Smart thief from what the kids had said—this cover was very detailed if she probably could have gotten in through a window to steal. And why here? Weren't there easier, or even wealthier, places to rob? A naval academy…but no more plausible suggestion presented itself.

"She sure went to some trouble to find out where you were," Martha said, eyebrow raised.

Jim shook his head. "That's just a coincidence."

"What do we do?" Emma asked.

Jim thought. If there really was a robber roaming the mostly-empty halls, then the kids shouldn't be here. But help would be nice…First priority was to get the kids out.

"Go to the cops," Jim said. "Hurry, okay?"

"We can do that!" Jacob said. Even Kim looked a little relieved. Jim took them to the main entrance without seeing anything suspicious.

"We'll be back," Jacob smiled over his shoulder.

Jim grinned back and shut the door. Okay, he thought, feeling slightly creeped out in spite of himself. He picked up on of the umbrellas out of the stand by the door.

Then he laughed in spite of himself. Yeah, dangerous weapon, he thought twirling the umbrella.

"Alright robber, fear me," he said, walking back into the school.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Alright kiddo, fear me," Almeda thought. Walking down the halls, she looked around. She was running on a tight schedule. She had to find and kill James Hawkins before four p.m. or things were going to get messy.

Probably would need to follow him after his last class. Still, no harm looking around now. She randomly kicked open doors to rooms that she passed while she thought, fingering the hidden lazer pistol Martha hadn't seen.

"Wonder what he looks like?" she wondered, kicking the next door open; nothing. "Sixteen or seventeen? Probably look pretty human—can pass for one anyway. Still, wonder if you've got any Ursid qualities…ears you hide in your hair, maybe?" She kicked open the next door.

Nothing.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jim had been walking around a deserted part of the school—deserted at this time of the day. He was in the office section. He turned a corner onto the hall with Amelia's office.

"Oop, quiet," he thought, making it to the end of the hall. No sense bringing the Captain out when her kids were out on the town ("I'm dead if she finds out," he thought). Just as he was about to turn down the next hall he heard a faint sound like a door slamming. He stiffened and listened. He relaxed slightly, must have been imagining it. But then he heard a sound like muffled talking, but only one voice. The sounds got a little nearer. Then he heard another door bang. He brandished the umbrella.

"What am I going to do with an armed robber? Fence her with this?" he wondered briefly.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Amelia put up the last her papers. Almost time for dinner she smiled. Delbert would be here soon. And this afternoon she got to show off one of her star students to a visiting officer. It was shaping up to be a good day.

She pulled on her coat and opened the door. What she saw was quite a surprise. It looked like Cadet Hawkins waiting to beat someone over the head with an umbrella during lunch hour.

"Mr. Hawkins!" she cried.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

To heck with this stupid giant school, Almeda thought, kicking another door. Who wanted a school this massive? She probably should have done a stakeout or something before barging in. But she'd been impatient. She wanted blood and she wanted it now.

Where was Hawkins?

Then, so near and loud she almost jumped, Almeda heard the surprised voice of Amelia Doppler cry, "Mr. Hawkins!"

She ran a few steps and saw the backlit siloette of a boy at the end of the Captain's hall. Perfect.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Mr. Hawkins!"

Jim nearly jumped out of his skin.

"No!" he thought. That was a dead giveaway. The robber was sure to know they were there now. He peered down the dark hallway where he'd heard the sounds. It was dusky. But then, oh no, he made out a shape creeping down the halls. But it didn't appear to be creeping away like a thief should. It was creeping _towards _him. And creeping him out.

Then he saw a glint, the light from Amelia's office reflecting off of…oh crap, she was armed.

Armed and moving faster now.

"Get in your office and get a gun!" Jim yelled to Amelia who looked shocked and affronted by this order.

"Get in!" Jim called again. "We have a problem."

And that problem was moving with alarming speed. Jim glanced over his shoulder towards Amelia. No. What if she was unarmed? He didn't want to get her hurt. But he also didn't want to sit here and get shot holding this stupid umbrella. So he turned and ran away from the armed robber, down the next hall, hopefully, leading her away from Amelia. There were plenty of rooms. Surely he could get in one and lock it! Where were the kids with the police? And drat the stupid rules: no loaded firearms in the halls. If that got him killed he was so coming back to haunt the school board!

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Almeda saw the boy hesitate, turn, and run down a dusky hallway away from both her and that Felid captain.

Almeda didn't wait, just picked up the pace and raced after him. To heck with that Ailurian—if she was lucky, she'd get the boy before the captain could do anything.

"You're dead," she whispered, running after him. How he knew to run, she didn't know. But it didn't matter. She'd get him.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

She was gaining on him. Jim had no idea why, but the sense of horror he'd had the other day at the Dopplers' and the dream, it was back. It didn't make sense. Just a break-in. But she was chasing him for some reason. And…and he really wished he had a gun.

He dove into a room on his right. There was faint light coming through the blinds, but most of the classroom was in shadow. He cursed, falling over a chair. Chairs and tables everywhere. He turned to shut the door. But he was a little late. A figure was already there, breathing heavily from running.

Jim backed into a table and shoved a chair at his attacker. Hit her in the shin too. He heard a sharp intake of breath.

"Chairs. No good against guns," said a woman's voice. Jim backed behind the table. They had a hard time seeing each other or the obstacles in the room.

Jim tripped again.

"You've got nowhere to go, boy," she said. "I know who you are. And this time, nobody gets away."

"Okay," Jim thought, "Not only a robber, but crazy to boot. Maybe she was a homicidal maniac. Where were the police when you needed them?"

Jim kept backing up. And Almeda kept feeling her way forward. Jim whipped his umbrella out. Almeda grabbed the end of it and yanked it away.

"What were you going to do with that?" she asked. "End of the line, Jim."

Jim? She knew his name?

"What do you want?" he asked, throwing another chair in her path.

"Your heart, roasted on a spit," she answered. A crazy robber with a sense of humor? Wait, he thought, maybe she wasn't kidding.

He was backing into a corner and he knew it. But there was nowhere to go. No, wait. He noticed a sidedoor. He'd have to duck under her outstretched hand to get there. On the count of three, he thought—backing up. One, two, he fell over another chair and picked himself up to late.

Her pistol was pointed at his face when he rose.

"No," he thought. "This is crazy. I can't die here! I lived through an exploding planet, I can't just…"

Almeda brought out a knife and lunged.

"Die James Pleiades Hawkins!" she snarled, lunging.

Jim stumbled back into a spot where the blinds were ripped, stumbled into the light. And for the first time, Almeda got a good look at his face.

She stopped dead, mid-lunge and dropped the knife.

"Leland!" she cried.

_Mwahahaha. Ironically, I can't wait to write the next chapter—have been looking forward to it forever. But I won't be updating for another week anyway. I'm gone and don't get back 'till next Saturday. But you can expect something soon after that. _

_In the meantime, please review! I'd be even more motivated about this. And kudos to SouthParkfan2—you are the most consistent, faithful, reader/reviewer ever. You should win a prize. And I thank the rest of you too, for continued support. Have a great week, and tell me what you think!_

_Thank you!_

_Oh, right: _

_Treasure Planet © Disney. _

_Almeda © Etherium Publications_


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8:

Explosive. In More Ways Than One.

"Leland!" Almeda cried, dropping her hand, knife on the floor. She was an experienced killer. Learning never to be distracted, never to hesitate, even for a fraction of a second was drummed into her skull. She had been in situations where a less-hardened killer would've broken: the building she was in, rocking, going up in flames, a brawl behind her, growing ever-closer, a child sobbing and screaming for her to stop.

She hadn't batted an eye.

But this was different.

Seeing a ghost was a shock.

The woman stumbled back a pace.

Jim stumbled away from his mad attacker, now that she was momentarily still. His mind was reeling.

Leland.

_Leland._

She was mad, after all. It was dark, after all. Maybe it was a mistake.

No, he thought. No, it was too close to home to be a coincidence.

He stared, still rather horrified.

Almeda shook her head and stepped closer, looking like she was treading on eggshells. She peered at him, and he tried to find somewhere else to back into.

"No," she said, slowly. "Not Leland. Far too young."

She shook her head, quickly pulled up her pistol again. It didn't matter. It_ couldn't_ matter. This was the wrong boy. But he had to know where to find the right one.

She shoved the pistol under Jim's chin before he could move.

"Where is he?" she snarled.

There was only one question in Jim's mind—and it came out, rather without thinking.

"Leland?"

She stared at him a second.

"No, idiot! Where is he? James Hawkins? Where?"

Now Jim stared at her in total bewilderment, even though there was a gun at his head he still tried to process what she was saying. She knew Leland. And she was looking for _him?_

"Me?" he asked, without thinking, and then mentally kicking himself.

The woman rolled her eyes.

"Not _you._ Hawkins. Jim. James Pleiades Hawkins. Where is he?"

She knew him. She knew who he was, Jim thought in horror. So, why did she ask where he was?

"I'm right here…" he said puzzled.

The woman closed her eyes for a moment.

"Slow, aren't you?" she managed.

Maybe, Jim thought. Maybe mad. He didn't know what madness felt like. But he wouldn't be surprised if he was mad. But she seemed calmer now, sarcastic even. Now that he was slightly, very slightly, less afraid, he simply had to know.

"I'm Jim. James Hawkins."

She stared at him.

"Now, what did you call me?" he asked, praying he had somehow misheard-impossible, but.

"An idiot," Almeda answered, deadpan. "And I grow tired of your idiocy. I know the boy is here. He's your age. He is a student in this academy. Tell me where to find him and I'll spare your life."

"But…" he started. "I am Jim Hawkins."

She looked at him. He didn't look stupid. He was lying, she thought. That was it. Heroic but stupid.

"Listen," she said, almost conversationally. "I know you aren't him. You can't be. Your lying is very nice and heroic. But it won't work."

"What?" Most definitely mad, he decided, "Why can't I be?"

"Because you are obviously Leland's son," she said. "Uncanny resemblance," she remarked, sounding as casual as she could. Leland had a _son?_ That thought went through her head and wouldn't leave. How was it she didn't know that.

"Leland. Leland Hawkins?" the boy said, sounding slightly frequently.

"I suppose," she said, eyes half-lidded. She shrugged. "I didn't know his last name."

That thought nettled her. Why hadn't she known his last name?

Her eyes opened and she sprung back as she realized her charge was lunging at her.

"It's impossible!" the boy cried. "How do you know him? Where is he?"

Almeda got a hand on Jim's uniform and gripped, hard.

"You know, I'd love to reminisce about old acquaintances, but I simply don't have the time, she said, fingering her lazer-pistol. Now, if you'll kindly point me in the direction of the lad I was coming to meet, you can go your merry way."

Jim's mind was working furiously. Infuriating to be here, closer to knowledge of his father than he'd been in nine years, and he couldn't get any closer. And he was going to die, he thought.

_Yeah. That too._

_Wait._ The off-hour was coming to an end. Help could be within calling distance within fifteen minutes. Maybe he could stall the madwoman.

As Almeda gripped the boy's collar, she could practically see the wheels turning. She knew her time was running out. Better to end things before he thought too far. She cocked her pistol.

_You can't do that_, said a strange voice in her head she didn't know was there.

_Yes I can,_ she thought back.

_Leland's own kin! _The voice chastened.

_Leland Shmeland._

_But it's a debt! _The voice wailed.

She rolled her eyes.

"I don't have time for this, boy. I will kill you. Unless you name me the name. Or if it isn't his name" (curse her lying source, that money-mad Mantavor!) "then name me the right one. Thirty seconds."

Thirty seconds? Jim almost laughed. What did one do when you told him he had only thirty seconds to live? Did he pray? Did he scheme? Did he contrive some fabulous lie to get out? But…his lying wasn't really up to par. Poker games with Devon were something akin to hell.

He tried the diplomatic approach.

"Are you stupid? Can't you see I am who I say I am? I'm Jim Hawkins—I don't know what you want!"

Almeda shoved the gun hard against his throat so that he had to gasp to breath.

"No you aren't."

"Why not?" he asked.

"Because you _are_ Leland Hawkins's son."

"Yes. But who do you want, if not me?"

Thirteen minutes left. Unlucky.

The woman's laconic expression had turned mad again. She pushed him farther and farther backwards.

"I want the boy who was called Hawkins! The boy from Montressor, the boy who was on the ill-fated expedition with Captain Smollet, the boy who saved a handful of the crew, the boy who joined the Interstellar Academy, the boy who is here. The boy who I'm going. To. Kill!"

She shoved him up against the wall.

Jim stared at her. She knew everything about him. So why…

Ten mintues.

"But…I am him."

Fury overcame Almeda's usually-sharp senses. The boy had a death-wish? Fine! She could find her real victim without his help.

Eight minutes.

She was running out of time.

She flicked her dagger out of her sleeve and lunged. No surprise would stop her now.

"Die, Hawkins!" she cried.

That's when a surprise stopped her.

Their count was off.

No, not off. They had been counting down to the Academy coming back to life.

What they hadn't counted on was the ship in the harbour.

That wasn't supposed to be there.

The one that blew in the wall of their room.

As the crash sounded, Jim, by pure reflex, shoved his captor against the wall and jumped as far as he could.

When he picked himself up, the wall of their room had crumbled in and shards of the walls and roof were everywhere. He blinked dust out his eyes. The wall that he'd pushed his captor against had fallen in.

On top of her.

He swallowed, hoping he wouldn't be sick.

She was a killer. And crazy. But what if she wasn't…dead yet? Jim shuddered. He _still _didn't like death.

"Hello?" it came out as a question.

The pile of bricks, trembled a bit.

Almeda realized she couldn't move. And this stupid wall was crushing her. She, Almeda Ax, who'd taken assasins, and burning fleets, and kings was not going to be outdone by a freaking wall.

She heard a tentative, muffled, "Hello?"

Her list of deaths to accomplish was now, officially, up to two.

Jim's stomach turned as he wondered if he should try to get the rubble off of her.

She made the decision for him.

"I'm going to _kill you!"_ screamed a voice from under the ruined wall.

That settled it.

He'd get some sort of authorities. They could get her out. In the meantime, what had blown a hole in his school?

Jim turned out of the room and ran.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

_Author's Note: I know it's been months since I updated. You probably didn't expect another chapter. I cannot explain all of my excuses (which include classes, three jobs, nanowrimo, and many other things). But I hate abandoned stories. So, I intend to finish this. The posts might get few and far-between. But I never intend to really abandon it. Help me make that goal come true! Save the abandoned stories! ^_- Anyway, if any of you remember this one, I would love to hear your thoughts. _

_Thanks much!_

_~TheInkgirl_

_Treasure Planet ©Disney_

_Almeda © TheInkgirl_


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